Pampering
by Peanut84
Summary: Derek pampers his Baby Girl. Just a short glimpse into a warm, sunny afternoon between our two favorite team members. Its all about the care and romancing. Rated T more for where your mind goes, :- than anything explicit.
1. Chapter 1

PAMPERING

**A/N: Thanks to all for reading, reviewing and alerting my first story, So Much for the Massage. You give a gal the courage to try this all again!**

**This is just a short one; the question for you to decide, is this: Is this merely a "uber-wonderful dream' (as Penelope would say!) or should this be an established relationship between Pen and Derek. You decide and let me know – my next story can go either way.**

Oh, and as we all sadly know, I own nothing of Criminal Minds. I just know better pairings than they do on the show!

The whisper soft touch of butterfly kisses across your face wakes you from a very satisfied slumber. The slant of the late afternoon sunlight filters through the shutters allowing you to see your beloved's face, while keeping out the heat of the summer day. Sitting on the edge of the bed and combing his strong fingers through your hair, Derek's smile speaks of temporary satisfaction as well as seductions yet to come. No words are needed; you both know that the explosive passion between you stems from the deepest form of respective, friendship and love. You complete one another's souls, and that was evident from the day you turned towards that voice, calling you Baby Girl.

Tugging the soft, and well wrinkled, Egyptian cotton sheet from your curvy frame, Derek takes your hand in his pulling you slowly upwards until you are standing in front of him, touching him from shoulder to hip. His natural scent, his very essence, unmasked by man-made perfumes, leaves you aroused and light-headed. You try to wrap your arms under his robe, around his taut waist and snuggle in, but he obviously has other plans as he enfolds you in your favorite white linen robe and belts it at your waist.

After a slow and passionate kiss, which he takes just to the edge of no return, he twines your fingers with his and leads you out onto the veranda, which now is shaded from the harsh sunlight by the old oaks and weeping willows. This house he restored has become your favorite, and the two of you took advantage of the holiday weekend, and your kind team members, to finish moving Derek's furniture and planting the final flowers in the wide beds around the house. As he settles you on your favorite chaise, you see the side table laid out with a wide assortment of luxurious toiletries, a pitcher of your favorite drinks and two chilled glasses. You realize that he has more pampering in mind, and wonder not only how you were so blessed to find this man, but also if you can survive any more of his 'pampering'.

Thanks to JJ, who you know must currently be enjoying her own afternoon delights with Will in town, Derek knows one of your greatest weaknesses are your feet. Foot soaks, rubs, & pedicures are your way to relax after a stressful case or to rejuvenate yourself when you have overextended your internal resources. Filling the old ceramic basin with warm water and lavender oil, he places it to the side of the chaise and lowers your left foot into the water's warm caress. Seating himself at the end of the chaise, he takes your right foot in his muscular hands, dribbles more of the lavender oil over your foot and begins a slow, deep muscle massage. Long strokes of his strong, callused fingers run from the tips of your toes, over your arch, across your heel and up your calf. Up and down, up and down. As your eyes struggle to stay open in the face of such a warm and relaxing technique, he changes to a deep rotating motion on the ball and arch of your foot, loosening the muscle knots and releasing the tension you hadn't realized your were holding in the rest of your body. With your body steadily melting into the chaise, he lowers your foot back onto the cushion, lifts the left foot out of the basin, and rises to dump the now tepid water. You watch through nearly closed eyes, as he refills the basin with warm water, adds more oil and sets it down on the right side of the chaise. He lowers your well-massaged foot into the soothing soak, and begins his magic on your left foot. Slow, methodical, deep strokes - up and down, up and down; strong, circular kneading over those tender areas.

Derek looks up at you as he settles both your feet in his lap, and a small, but victorious smile crosses his face - but never reaches his eyes. Those pierce your soul with a look that makes you wonder who is the conqueror and who is the conquered. You stare at each other longingly as your breathing becomes erratic, and you note that he too is flushed and his breathing unsteady.

Without breaking your gaze, he reaches for the bottle of lotion on the side table. It is the one he had custom mixed just for you, scented with your favorite perfume, but a blend of nutrients and botanicals that will nourish and moisturize your sensitive skin without causing any unwanted reactions. He pours the lotion in his hands and rubs them ever so slowly together to warm the lotion. Lifting one foot and placing it lightly on his shoulder, he begins to gently massage the lotion into your porcelain skin, making the journey from your toes to an area above your knee and just under the edge of your robe. Back and forth, up and down. His hands make the excursion first up the sides of your leg and back down the top and bottom, repeating it over and over until the lotion is absorbed. You are torn between complete and utter relaxation and arousal when you realize that this luxurious treatment is now being afforded to the other leg. The breeze and the ever-changing afternoon light caress your face as he caresses your lower extremities. Your eyes finally break the tie to his, slowly closing as he whispers your name and slides your foot down to meet its mate in his lap.

You feel him stretch around to the table again, and hear the soft clink of liquid and ice being poured. When he quietly says your name, you allow your eyes to flutter open softly and you see the goblet he is holding out to you. "To love and pampering", he says in his low, rumbling tone, and gently clinks his goblet to yours. You sip the mojito briefly as he leans forward to capture your lips with his. Setting his glass down on the floor beside the chaise and taking yours from your hands, he stretches his long body out beside yours and draws you into his arms. As his lips descend once again, you think you hear him say, "We'll do more pampering later", but your mind is already giving way to the pleasures you know are in store for both of you.

**A/N: So…. More pampering, or should I just tell another tale altogether?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**Well you all asked for more "pampering", so here's another chapter. And sorry, for those of you that asked, I don't know any single men that know how to pamper like this - and if I did, I'd keep him for myself, before sharing! :-)**

**And sadly, I don't own CM, or any of the characters. If I did...**.

* * *

Your man (Gawd, you love calling him that!) has finished his hot & sweaty yard work, and has cooled off in the ever-so-handy swimmin' hole/pond, and is now prowling up to the edge of the veranda, pulling off his drenched tank & flashing his ripped arms, chest and abs as he moves. His wet shorts - an old raggedy, virtually indecent pair of cut-off jeans - cling to his muscular thighs revealing his lower physique quite nicely.

When he arrives at the edge of the veranda though, he stops, legs spread in a steadying stance and hands on hips. With his head tilted slightly to one side, he beckons to you with one little finger - not moving until you rise from your chaise and come to him. He gently takes your hand and helps you down the steps, placing a soft kiss just under your ear as you come to a stop beside him.

Intertwining your fingers with his, he leads you across the grassy expanse he has just spent hours trimming (much to your 'satisfaction') to the shade of the tall trees where, out of view of the veranda, he has hung an old fashioned rope swing, on long, fat ropes with a wooden seat. As he seats you in the swing and the breeze lightly lifts your hair, you notice he has laid out some unusual things under the tree - several large, galvanized metal buckets - one with mist gently rising from it - towels and several small bottles.

In that slow, sweet, deep voice of his he says you deserve to be pampered, and he would like to wash your hair for you, out here in the warmth as the sunlight comes through the leaves of the tall trees, dappling all it lands upon.

With your silent consent and approval, he removes your simple blouse (to avoid it getting wet, of course!), slowly unbuttoning it - one tiny, silk covered button at a time - gently caressing the skin as he exposes it. With you now only in your flowing skirt and lacy bra (which naturally generates a bit of 'pampering' of it's own!), your hands placed carefully on the swing ropes and your eyes pressed lightly shut, he lightly tips your head back, and lets the warmed water cascade unhurriedly over your deep red curls.

His large, strong hands begin a sensuous massage of your scalp and you smell the aroma of honeysuckle wrap itself around you both as he works the shampoo slowly and thoroughly through your hair. His slick & soapy fingers leisurely work on the tension in your neck and rub slow circles on your temple, making you drowsy and warm. He continues his manipulations for some time, as you lean back in the swing resting yourself against his strong chest. Your brain slowly melts at the sensation of being in your lover's arms combined with his tender pampering, the gentle breeze, and the smells of the freshly mowed lawn and shampoo overwhelm your senses.

You feel his body shift as he reaches for another bucket of rinse water. The bucket tips ever so slightly, and the suds trickle slowly off your scalp. A soft chuckle comes from above you as he 'accidentally' allows the water to dribble across your shoulders and down your chest. Wrapping a towel carefully over your hair, without drying the rest of you, you smile as he tenderly lifts you out of the swing and into his arms. Brushing a soft kiss across your mouth, he looks deep into your eyes, and you see the stalking panther reappear in his. With a rueful tilt of his head towards the other items he had laid out under the tree, he lifts you high against his bare chest, and with your head held firmly in the notch between his neck and shoulder, strides rapidly towards the veranda and the waiting, cool rooms beyond...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

Pen takes the opportunity to plan some pampering of her own...

* * *

The gentle rumble of distant thunder draws you from your light slumber. Apparently the promised storms arrived while the two of you were occupied only with one another. As you slowly rollover, and stare at the still dozing and relaxed face of your lover, you wonder why you were so blessed to find one another. What started out as a crush on one of the Bureau's hottest agents, had turned into a deep, abiding friendship and love with the man behind the agent – the real person, as you frequently qualify it to your best friend JJ.

A slight smile comes to your face as you recall the first time JJ explained how she knew Derek Morgan; to JJ he was simply her colleague and teammate – not the FBI's most downloaded hunk. Over many cases, traveling together and watching his way both with other law enforcement personnel, and unsubs, JJ considered him as one of her best friends. JJ thought nothing of introducing Pen to Derek when she joined the BAU as their T.A. - it was just a matter of getting her two of her best friends in the same place at the same time.

"Thank you, JJ", you whisper as you stare down at Derek, stretched out beside you on the crisp cotton sheets. With his short dark hair mussed from running your fingers through it earlier, and his long lashes feathered against his face, he looks more rested and at peace than in recent months. Returning to the team after Buford, knowing that everyone now knew his secret, a draining case load, and then her own life altering experience with Battle, have all taken an internal toll on him. Never one to complain, you see the stress and anxiety on his face – the dark circles that grew by the day, the shots of gray beginning to appear in his wavy hair, the strain in his voice during your nightly phone calls. These past few days with just the two of you, tucked away at his new home, with the phones off and no pressures, had been a boon to his soul – and to yours.

Typically, Derek had used this time together to pamper you – despite his need for some quiet down time, good food, tender care, and sleep. No, instead of concentrating on himself, he has shown you his compassionate side, caring for you and allowing you both the freedom to give into your passions for one another, whenever and wherever the mood might strike. Your face grows warm as you recall the wild and unrestrained response you have to this man. He just needs to walk toward you, with that animal grace and strength of his, to have you aroused and ready for anything. God knows, a shampoo and a foot massage have never before had you giving in to the savage passions he brings out in you!

Whispering quietly, "It's time you understood the concept of pampering Mr. Morgan", you kiss him lightly on his forehead and slowly lift his arm from your waist. Rising carefully so as not to disturb his unusual afternoon siesta, you stare down at him for a few moments amazed as always that this man can make you feel like a princess – and the most beautiful woman in the world.

With the sheet bunched at his waist, and his sculpted chest arms, and abdomen displayed with such casual abandon, you grin at your own good fortune. "He's mine", you remind yourself with more than a touch of amazement, "All mine."

When this epiphany came to you is unclear. One of the toughest things for you to do in this life is trust – whether it was another individual or your own emotions. Trying to understand the separation Derek so readily made in his own mind between 'Agent Derek Morgan', and 'Derek Morgan', brother, son, friend and lover had been the greatest stumbling block for you in this relationship. Derek had tried to explain it and so had JJ. After all JJ faced it daily with Rossi as well. With Rossi on television constantly promoting his books, JJ had a special insight into the instinctive separation between the public persona and the private, real man concept.

Yet, you couldn't just believe at face value what Derek told you. No, you had to work it into your psyche, to see it in action for yourself. The fact that Derek somehow understood proved he was more than worthy of your love and trust. And that's what he had in mind when he met up with you, JJ and Dave in the restaurant in Old Town Alexandria. To talk all of this out once and for all; to see if there truly was a future for the two of you.

"Oh, we have a future Mr. Morgan, and this is just the beginning for us." Knotting the belt on your robe and turning quickly away, before you opt to curl back up with him, you leave the dim light of the bedroom and wander about the house, collecting a variety of things from different rooms – all with the thought of turning the pampering tables around and indulging him with the luxurious treatments and unending love he has shown you.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Pen now turns the tables on Derek...**

**Don't own CM, or the characters, because if I did...**

* * *

"Derek, oh Derreekkkk; wake up sweetheart."

Your quiet singsong doesn't even stir him. It's not surprising with all the energy he's expended in the last few days, that even with two noisy trips up the stairs with supplies to create his surprise he hasn't moved a muscle. The rain is still falling outside, but the thunder is farther and farther away. To add to the watery light coming in from the shutters, you place lighted candles all around the room – fat ones, pillars, tapers, votives, and even ones in the fake fireplace logs. With a bottle of the Italian sparkling wine you both love on ice, a bowl of fresh raspberries and cream on the side table, and all the tools of the pampering trade you could find spread out beside the comforter on the floor, you are more than ready to have Derek awake and participating in the evening's delights.

As you sit on the edge of the bed next to him, your fingers trace lightly up the clearly delineated muscles of his arm, across his shoulder and down to his chest. You've always been a 'hand' woman – or had been until Derek. One look at his well-defined chest, one time being held tightly against it, was enough to convert you forever. Laying your hand flat against his chest over his heart, you lean in and begin trailing light, butterfly kisses across his brow, eyelids and cheeks.

By the time you reach that oh so delectable mouth, Derek's eyes are fluttering open and his hands reach up to hold you in place. "Hmmm; hi sugar – it's time to wakeup, love." You raise your head in time to catch the smile that melts your heart every time. It is the one he smiles only for you and his family – those closest to his heart. It took you almost too long to understand that, but now that you do it makes your heart beat even faster.

When he opens his mouth to say something to you, you press your finger lightly to his lips, stopping the sound. "Shh; don't say anything. This is your time; you, my dear Mr. Morgan, are in for some pampering of your own."

Just as he did the previous morning, you twine your fingers with his and gradually pull him upright in the bed and then slowly pull him up against you, until the two of you are standing on the cool inlaid floor with barely an inch of air between you. He reaches for his robe, but you tug it out of his hand, and throw it across the bed. "You aren't going to need that for now; we're only going as far as the seating area."

For the first time since awakening, Derek looks around the room and his smile grows as he sees the scene you have set. The candles, the wine, his favorite sultry jazz playing quietly through the room's hidden speakers, all reflect your feminine touch and love. His eyes darken with passion as he realizes the treats you have in store for his pleasure. "I'm yours to do with as you will, my lady. If you want to do something about it, lead me on."

You both start to laugh as you realize he's quoting the words to a classic country song written by one of his dearest friends in Nashville. That's something you hadn't known before Derek either – that laughter and love not only could - but should go together.

Holding tight to his hand, you push him gently down onto the thick, fluffy comforter you have laid out on the floor. Rolling him onto his stomach with his head on the down pillow, you take a moment to savor the six-plus feet of masculine beauty stretched out in front of you. The candles flickering flames gave off more than enough light to make his taut body glow. The muscles in his shoulders, back and thighs are strong and lean thanks to all his work in the gym, but you know the stress they contain too.

Picking up the green bottle of unscented massage oil, you pour a small amount into your palm, taking a moment to warm it between your hands. Starting at the base of his neck, you begin working the oil into his skin using a long, slow, deep muscle massage. Down his long neck, across his shoulders, down his arms, and then back up repeating the journey over and over again, until even his fingers go limp on the comforter.

Drizzling more oil in a serpentine pattern across his back, you straddle his hips and begin working his upper back. Between the stress of the job, and his daily weight lifting regime, it always leaves a series of knots between his shoulder blades. You focus your strength and weight on loosening those knots, kneading the surrounding muscle until it is pliable and then applying direct pressure to the center of the knot. You hear and feel his groan as the knot releases, and you move on to the others, offering each of them the same loving treatment.

When the knots are all dissolved, you move up to kneel at his head, drizzling still more oil on his back. Stretching forward over his back you place your hands on his lower back, right at the top of his buttocks, and begin a series of long, deep upwards sweeps across the full length of his back. Your fingers work deeply into each muscle group; you sweep up and down, back and forth, up his back and down his sides, smiling softly as you hear his deep moans of pleasure. You never knew how satisfying it was to feel and hear him relax beneath your hands.

Your strokes become lighter, as you notice your erratic breathing is nearly as bad as Derek's, until your fingers are barely even touching his skin. The air disturbance is enough to raise goose bumps across his body though, and he lifts his head to look at you with darkened eyes. You lightly place his head on your kneeling thighs and gently smooth back his hair. The passion and energy between you is electric and even the soothing strokes across his head, cannot offer the release you both seek.

Derek rises slowly from the comforter, until he is kneeling in front of you. Who moved first after that, you'll never know, but you find yourself wrapped up against his chest and his lips on yours. "But sug," you protest pulling your head back only to have his mouth on your neck, finding that sensitive place under your ear, "I'm supposed to be taking care of you. I still have your legs and chest to..."

The rest of your comments are swallowed by Derek's mouth as he turns the two of you around and lays you out across the comforter. He lifts his head to stare into your eyes, and the flickering light proves that you have managed to awaken your panther again – and that mutual pampering was next on the evening's agenda. With his fingers on the sash of your robe, and a smile on his face, you hear him whisper, "Later dear, much, much later", as he lowers his mouth to yours once again.


End file.
